The Mistress(3)

Natasha had been dressing when she heard the helicopter approach. She had just taken a shower and slipped into a white satin jumpsuit that molded her exquisite body perfectly. As a little girl, she had dreamed of being a ballerina, which hadn’t been even remotely possible for her. She quickly brushed her long, wavy blond hair, put on a minimum of makeup, clipped on diamond earrings Vladimir had given her, and stepped into high-heeled silver sandals. She had a natural beauty, with no artifice about her, and she needed to do nothing to enhance it. Vladimir loved that about her. She reminded him of some of his favorite paintings by Italian masters, and he could watch her for hours, her long graceful body, her perfect features, the silky pale blond hair and huge blue eyes the color of a summer sky. He took pleasure in looking at her as much as talking to her. He appreciated the fact that she was intelligent. Vladimir detested vulgar women, and greedy ones, and stupid ones, and she was none of those. There was a natural grace about her, and a quiet dignity.

She hurried up the stairs to one of the two helipads on the upper deck, and stepped out among the dozen crew members and security men waiting for him, just as the helicopter landed. The wind whipped her hair, and she smiled, trying to get a glimpse of him through the windows. And a moment later the pilot cut the engine, the door opened, and he stepped out and nodded at the captain, as one of the bodyguards took his briefcase from him. Vladimir looked at Natasha and smiled. She was precisely who he wanted to come back to, after meetings in London. He had been gone for two days, and was happy to be on the boat where he could relax, although he had an office there where he could work too, and video screens so he could communicate with his London and Moscow offices.

They spent months on the boat at times, and he traveled to meetings when he needed to. The one he had just come from had gone well, and he was pleased. He put an arm around her shoulders as they walked down a flight of stairs to a large handsome bar on the deck below. A stewardess handed them each a glass of champagne from a silver tray, as Vladimir gazed out at the water for a moment and then back at her. She asked him nothing about the meetings. All she knew of his work was what she had heard, seen, or guessed, and she kept it to herself. Her discretion as well as her beauty were important to him. And he was delighted to see her after two days away. As they sat down, neither noticed the bodyguards standing at a slight distance from them. They were part of the landscape for both of them.

“So what did you do today?” he asked in a gentle tone, admiring the way the white jumpsuit fit her like a second skin. Her behavior was never provocative, except in the bedroom, but there was an undeniable sexy quality to her that made men’s heads turn and envy him, which pleased him. Just as the boat was an expression of his extreme wealth, Natasha’s stunning beauty was a symbol of his virility and appeal as a man. He enjoyed both.

“I swam, had a manicure, and did some shopping in Cannes,” she said easily. It was a typical day for her when he wasn’t around. When he was, she remained on the boat to be available to him. He didn’t like it when she disappeared if he had free time. And he liked swimming with her, having meals with her, and talking to her when he chose to.

Natasha had studied a considerable amount about art on her own, reading books and articles on the Internet, keeping abreast of news in the art world. She would have liked to take some classes at the Tate in London when they were there, or in Paris where they spent time as well, but she was never anywhere for long enough to enroll in courses, and Vladimir always wanted her with him. But in spite of a lack of formal education in a classroom, she had become impressively educated about art in recent years, and he liked discussing his new purchases with her, and the paintings he was planning to acquire. She would study extensively then about the artists he mentioned, and loved researching unusual facts about them, which fascinated him as well, and intrigued him. She had engaged in conversations with art experts at dinner parties they gave, and Vladimir was proud of her extensive knowledge.

And since she had no friends to spend time with, she was used to shopping alone. He let her buy whatever she wanted and enjoyed giving her gifts, mostly jewelry he loved picking for her, and a vast number of alligator Hermès bags, in every imaginable color, most of them Birkins with diamond clasps, which cost a fortune. He begrudged her nothing, and loved selecting her clothes at the haute couture shows, like the Dior jumpsuit she had on. He liked spoiling her in ways he didn’t indulge himself. She was an advertisement for him. In contrast, he was always simply and conservatively dressed and had returned from London in jeans, a well-cut blazer and blue shirt, and brown suede shoes from Hermès. They made a handsome couple despite the difference in their ages. Occasionally, in a playful mood, he pointed out that he was old enough to be her father, with twenty-three years between them, although he didn’t look it.

Although she had no life of her own, she wasn’t lonely. He rewarded her richly for monopolizing her, and she never complained. She was grateful to him, and he never tired of admiring her. In seven years, he had never met another woman he wanted more, or who would have suited him better. He only cheated on her when the men he did business with called in hookers for everyone in another city after an important meeting, and he didn’t want to appear uncooperative or unfriendly. The men had usually had a lot to drink by then, and he always slipped away early.

The stars came out as they finished the champagne, and Vladimir said he wanted to go to their cabin to shower and put on something more casual for dinner, although he preferred seeing Natasha in the kind of clothes she was wearing. It still excited him to see how beautiful she was, and she followed him to their cabin, and lay down on their bed as he took off his clothes and walked into his dressing room, with the black marble bathroom. Her own dressing room and pink marble bathroom had been designed especially for her.